


These Old Wings

by TardisGirl11 (ThedasWitch)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Winchester Sister, sister fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-21
Updated: 2015-03-21
Packaged: 2018-03-18 22:50:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3586944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThedasWitch/pseuds/TardisGirl11
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Started with this request: "I don't know if your taking requests still but if you are could you do like this one where the reader is Sam and deans little sister and gets kidnaped and they have to rescue her ..."</p><p>Reader is the Winchester brother's little sister, and has feelings for Castiel.</p><p>(tagged mature because smut will happen eventually)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Abduction

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Mention of kidnapping and pain, but not graphic

You leaned back in your chair and sighed dramatically. “I can’t find anything that even smells like what we’re after. Any luck, Sam?”  
Your brother looked up from his stack of books with a frown. “Nothing. Dean?” The two of you looked over at Dean, only to find that he was asleep with his face on an open book. “Okay,” Sam said. “Want to call it a night, Y/N? Try again in the morning?”  
You stood up and stretched. “Actually, I’m going to go for a run. Maybe some air and exercise will clear my head.” As you turned around, you practically ran into Cas, who had just appeared in the bunker’s library. “Oh, god, sorry,” you mumbled, feeling your cheeks heat up. You ducked to hide your red cheeks and dodged around the angel to head to the door.  
Your feelings for Castiel were… complicated. On the one hand, he was a soldier of heaven who had saved you and your brothers more times than you could count. He was alien and periodically distant, and one of the most powerful beings you’d ever met.  
On the other hand, he had a way of looking at you with those blue eyes that made you feel like a thirteen-year-old with her first crush. And it wasn’t just that his vessel was hot, although it was, it was that he sweet and funny and refreshingly honest. He treated you like a capable hunter, not like the baby sister Sam and Dean still thought you were.  
But it would never come to anything. He was a celestial being, and you were, well, you. Besides, even if Cas somehow saw you as more than another hunter, he was your brother’s best friend.  
Shaking your head to try and clear out the annoying thoughts, you checked your laces and jogged out the door. You hoped that a good run would clear out the cobwebs. Setting out from the bunker’s entrance, you took your usual route along the road. Your feet slapped the pavement in a steady rhythm, and the cool evening air felt good against your skin. You tried to let go of distractions like Cas and fruitless research, concentrating instead on your breathing and the pull of your muscles.  
And then the world went black.  
You woke up tied to a chair, a gag in your mouth. You were in the middle of what looked like an empty warehouse. Three people stood across the room talking, until one woman noticed that you were awake. “Well, look who decided to join us,” she said, sauntering over to you. She leaned forward and rested one hand on the back of your chair. “Now,” she smirked, tapping the gag with a finger, “if I remove this, will you behave?”  
You glared at her, a stream of profanity running through your mind. She laughed at turned away. “Yeah, didn’t think so.”  
“I still think we should’ve just killed her,” said one of the others, a man. “Keeping her alive is a liability.  
“You know as well as I do what the boss wanted,” replied the woman. “We keep her alive and in one piece until her sweet, reckless brothers swoop in to save her.”  
You tested the bonds around your wrists, trying to determine if you could break free with them noticing. Your movements were halted by a cold hand on your neck; your third captor had circled around behind you. “I really wouldn’t, girlie,” he whispered in your ear. “The boss said ‘one piece’. No specifics about how battered that piece can be. And it might take days for your brothers to find you.”  
The hours that followed were a haze of red and blood and pain. You blacked out more than once, but they always yanked you back to consciousness before continuing. Your throat cracked from screaming into the gag, and you could feel your strength waning. You lost track of how long you spent in that room, but the smiles of your three captors were burnt into your memory.  
When you came to again, the light coming through the grimy windows had dimmed. You were no longer tied to the chair, but your wrists were bound together hanging from something above your head. From the burning in your shoulders, you guessed that you’d been in that position for a while. You struggled to see in the low light, realizing as you looked around that one of your eyes was swollen shut.  
Suddenly, there was a crash from somewhere behind you. You could hear yelling and gunfire, and the distinctive voices of your brothers calling your name.  
“I’m here!” you croaked, but your voice was too worn and cracked to carry far. “Please...” you whispered, sagging in your bonds.  
You heard their voices again, closer this time. “Dean!” Sam yelled. “Over here! I got her.” Then he was in front of you, brushing your hair back and freeing your wrists. You collapsed against him, and he wrapped a supporting arm around you. “Hey, Y/N, it’s okay,” he said. “We’re here. We got you.” You tried to take a few steps, leaning heavily on Sam, but couldn’t make it far. With a grunt, Sam scooped you up and started carrying you out.  
The two of you met Dean in the doorway, gun in his hands and legs spread in a defensive stance. When he saw your injuries, his jaw tightened. “Rest of the building’s clear. But we’ll find the sons-of-bitches, Y/N, I promise.”  
Your brother carried you to the Impala and Dean drove to the bunker, glancing back at you in the rearview mirror anxiously. “Just try to hang in there, kid. We’ll get you patched up when we get home.” He prayed under his breath as he drove, and you could just make out the words “Cas,” “friggin’ emergency,” and “ass down here.”  
Sam sat with you in the back seat, cradling your head in his lap and running a soothing hand over the part of your hair that wasn’t full of dried blood. You tried to stay quiet and not make them worry more, but every bump in the road jostled you and sent bolts of fire through your injuries. A whimper slipped through your lips despite your efforts. “Just a little longer, Y/N, alright?” murmured Sam. You closed your eyes tightly and tried to focus on the rumble of the Impala’s engine instead of how badly you hurt.  
You passed out again in the car, and the next thing you knew Dean was throwing open the door to your bedroom as Sam carried you inside. He laid you gently on the bed and sat beside you.  
“Cas!” barked Dean, rummaging through your bag for the first aid kit. “Little help!”  
Castiel appeared next to him, his back to you. “Dean, I do have certain responsibilities in heaven. I cannot come…” his voice trailed off as he turned around and saw you lying on the bed. His face hardened into an expression you’d never seen on the angel’s face before, and his eyes flashed with an emotion you couldn’t quite identify. “Who did this?” he growled.  
“We aren’t sure,” said Sam, “but can you help? She’s in bad shape.”  
Cas walked to the bed and touched you gently on the forehead. In the space of a breath, the pains wracking your body vanished, and you relaxed into the pillow. He placed his hand on the top of your head, and you fell into a dreamless sleep.


	2. The Case

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trying to forget about what happened, the reader and her brothers find a new case.

You and your brothers didn’t discuss what had happened to you for the next few weeks, although by the number of times they stopped talking when you walked into the room, you were pretty sure that they were discussing it without you. But, other than a few awkward looks and a “you okay?” from Dean, the three of you stuck to the traditional Winchester policy of not talking about painful issues. You still didn’t know who was behind your kidnapping, or who the mysterious “boss” was, and as far as you could tell your brothers didn’t have any leads. The three of you kept up with hunting and research as usual, and if your brothers acted more over-protective than before, you pretended not to notice.  
About a month after you’d been rescued, you got a call from Garth about couples going missing from a town in New Mexico. The three of you packed up the Impala and checked into a tiny motel just outside of Albuquerque.  
“So get this,” said Sam, waving you over to look at his laptop. “Seven different couples have vanished from the same retreat over the past four years. Someplace called ‘Tiber Springs.’ Their website says they do spa weekends combined with ‘intensive interpersonal sessions meant to revitalize a struggling marriage and realign your personal energies.’ A little cheesy and New Age, maybe, but nothing on the site looks like it’s related to the occult.”  
“So is it even our kind of thing?” Dean asked.  
“Looks like it,” Sam replied. “The retreat may not look suspicious, but the disappearances have all happened almost exactly seven months apart. They check in, they go to a couple sessions, then they check out and they’re never seen again. No bodies are ever found, and the police have no leads.” He clicked to a different page, then continued, “The last disappearance was a little over six and a half months ago. If the pattern keeps up, there might be another in the next few week or two.”  
“So what’s the plan?” Dean asks, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Me and Sam put on the monkey suits, go ask a few questions?”  
Sam agreed, and they decided to go check out the retreat as FBI agents, while you stayed behind in the motel and kept looking for some kind of connection between the victims. But an hour later, you were still hitting a wall in your research, and your brothers hadn’t gotten back yet.  
“This is pointless,” you groaned, closing the laptop and pushing away from the table. As far as you could tell, the missing couples had nothing in common other than the retreat and the fact that they were married. They all came from different cities, had different backgrounds, worked different jobs. Two of the couples were gay, and the victims ages were anywhere from 24 to 59. You decided to wait until Sam and Dean got back with more information, and turned on the TV.  
You clicked through the channels, trying to find something more interesting than your research. Normally, you’d go out for a run when you got stuck like this, but after what happened the last time…well, you’d rather stay in the motel room with a couple protection sigils and a pistol.  
With a flutter of wings, Castiel appeared in the room. You started, mentally cursing yourself for being so jumpy.  
“My apologies, Y/N,” he said with a nod in your direction. “Dean asked me to check in on you. Their investigation is taking longer than they had expected.”  
“Alright,” you said. Neither of you spoke for an awkward beat, and you bit your lip nervously. “Umm, go ahead and sit if you want.” Castiel joined you on the bed, and you turned up the volume on the TV. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him sitting stiffly on the edge of the bed, his blue eyes focused on the screen. You racked your brain for something to say, but came up blank.  
Talking to Castiel had always felt a little awkward, given your crush on the angel, but now it was even worse. He’d swooped in and saved you yet again, and you were at a loss at how to thank him. Somehow you didn’t think they made cards to express “thank-you-for-helping-my-brothers-save-me-from-horrific-torture-at-the-hands-of-a-group-of-kidnappers.”  
The two of you were still sitting in silence when your brothers got back, bringing dinner with them, and you jumped up, grateful for the distraction. You pulled food out of the takeout bags as Sam and Dean told you what they’d found. Which, unfortunately, wasn’t much.  
“I don’t know,” said Sam, “Nothing they told us really helps us figure out those disappearances.”  
“So what now?” you asked, crumpling up the wrapper from your burger. “Is there even a case here?”  
“There’s gotta be something,” said Dean. “It’s been too regular to be random. Besides, I still think that retreat director was hiding something.”  
“Maybe we need a look from the inside,” you said. “If it’s the guests disappearing, then maybe…”  
Sam and Dean both realized what you meant and started talking at the same time, shouting down your idea before you could even say it.  
“No,” said Dean. “No way. Y/N, I know what you’re thinking, and no. We’re not letting you go in alone. Not after… No. Not gonna happen.”  
You groaned. “God, Dean, I’m not a child. I’m a hunter, I’ve worked cases like this before. I don’t need my big brothers protecting me every minute of the day. Besides,” you added. “I wouldn’t be going in alone. It’s a couples’ retreat. I’d be working it with a partner.”  
“You’re not going without one of us with you,” said Dean.  
“They’ve already met both of us, Dean,” said Sam. “Besides, if she’s going to sell it…”  
“Going to sell it?” said Dean. “When did we decide she was going?”  
“She,” you said, crossing your arms, “is standing right her. She is going to work this case. And she does not need her big brothers’ permission to anything. We can just call Garth or something. I’ve worked with him before.”  
“No good,” replied Sam. “Garth’s working something in Maine. He was on the way there when he called about this case.”  
You suggested a few other names, but there were all either too far, unavailable, or, according to Dean, “not getting within twenty yards of my kid sister.”  
Castiel cleared his throat. You all turned to face him, still sitting on the bed. You’d honestly forgotten he was still there.  
“I could go with Y/N,” he said. “I do have some experience as a hunter. And I believe that I am more than capable of keeping her safe, should the need arise. Not that she could not do so herself,” he added hurriedly after seeing the look on your face.  
Dean looked at you, his eyebrows raised. “Well, Y/N? Think you could pretend to be Mrs. Castiel for a weekend?”


	3. Tiber Springs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Posing as a married couple, the Reader and Castiel go undercover at the Tiber Springs retreat.

You fiddled with the edge of your shirt, trying to make it lie flat over the skirt you’d bought the night before. You were wearing pastel colors and strappy sandals; not your usual hunter’s gear, but appropriate for Mrs. Y/N Gramm, a dental hygienist from Santa Fe. The light fabrics and pale colors made you feel exposed, and you were more than a little glad that Castiel was at your side. Well, Castiel and the angel blade you knew he kept up his sleeve.  
“Right this way, Mr. and Mrs. Gramm,” said the preppy blonde who checked you into the retreat. “We have you in the Naiad suite. Very relaxing, very romantic. You just missed dinner, but there's a couples mixer in about twenty minutes. After that, you two have the whole evening to get settled in. Your first session is scheduled for tomorrow morning after breakfast.” She grinned at you, and showed you to a small but luxurious room. “We hope you have a wonderful stay!” she gushed, and left you and Cas to unpack.  
“So what do you think?” you asked, setting your bag on the bed. “Notice any weird vibes when we checked in?”  
“There were no “vibes” that I noticed,” said Cas, making air quotes as he answered. “Perhaps we'll find something at the event the young lady mentioned."  
You ran your hand through your hair. "Alright. Give me a minute to freshen up and we can go down to the mixer." You scooped up your toiletries bag and went into the bathroom, hoping you could make something semi-presentable out of your hair. "Sam and Dean didn't seem to have any idea what we're looking for," you said, calling out the door to Cas. "What about you? Any ideas?"  
Cas sat in the armchair by the bed, his head tilted as he considered your question. "I have no leads. The regularity of the disappearances suggests some sort of ritual sacrifice or a creature that remains dormant for long intervals. But I've seen nothing so far that could indicate either."  
You set down your comb and stood in the bathroom doorway."Well, what do you think?" you asked, gesturing to your outfit. "Do I look like Mrs. Gramm, mild-mannered housewife?"  
Castiel fixed you with his blue gaze, his eyes flicking over your body before settling on your face. He swallowed, unblinking, and nodded. "You look lovely," he said, hurriedly standing up and straightening his jacket. "Shall we?"  
The two of you walked down to the lobby, your hand tucked into the crook of Castiel's elbow. You felt like everyone in the room had to be aware of how awkward you felt, but hoped that it was just nerves. You walked over to a table with a pile of nametags, manned by a girl who, except for a side ponytail, looked practically the same as the one who had checked you in.  
"Mr. and Mrs. Gramm?" she said with a toothy smile. "You're our newest check-in. Let me just get you some nametags, and you can head on in to the Roma room. We have six other couples staying with us at the moment, and most of them are in there already. Feel free to get a drink, mingle. Our director will be here soon to give a presentation."  
The blonde handed you the nametags, and the two of you put them on.  
"Are you ready, Y/N?" asked Cas, smoothing the sticker down on his jacket.  
You took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "As I'll ever be," you said. "Sweetie."  
Castiel took your hand and led you into the Roma Lounge, where a handfull of other couples were sipping drinks and chatting. You glanced over the room, noting the exits and potential weapons out of habit. It was just a typical event space, with a group of chairs arranged in front of a podium on small stage and a bar in the corner. A few of the people looked up when you and Castiel entered the room, but most of them quickly returned to their drinks and conversations.  
One woman, however, kept her eyes fixed on Cas. Her eyes raked up and down his body, and you could practically see her lick her lips. You tightened your grip on Castiel’s hand a fraction, setting your jaw at the unexpected flare of jealousy. You knew that you really had no claim on him, but she didn’t know that. And, judging by the colossal diamond on her left hand, she was married.  
“Y/N?” asked Cas, interrupting your surprisingly violent thoughts. “What do you want to do?”  
You shook your head to clear it and put your focus back on the angel. "Um, drinks," you said. "Then mingle a bit. Maybe one of the other guests have noticed something strange."  
Castiel nodded and walked over to the bartender, leaning over the counter to order. You tried not to notice how his suit jacket pulled against his broad shoulders, or the way his pants hugged his behind. You needed to keep your mind on the hunt, not on a celestial being that would never be interested in his only friends' kid sister anyway.  
You took a deep breath and forced a polite smile onto your face, walking over to a group of women standing in the center of the room. "Y/N Gramm," you said, extending your hand as you introduced yourself. The other women smiled and introduced themselves. They were pretty much what you'd expected, a collection of middle class housewives and career women, all married and all glad to be on vacation. Nothing seemed suspicious about the women or their stories, and the five of you made polite chit chat until Castiel joined you.  
"Here you are, dear," he said, the human endearment sounding strange coming from him. He handed you a glass of your favorite drink, whiskey on the rocks. Maybe it wasn't the most ladylike beverage, but you'd learned to drink from Dean Winchester.  
Castiel wrapped an arm around your waist, and you hoped that the other women didn't notice you blushing. The two of you were meant to be a happily married couple, not a pair of teenagers on their first date. Castiel introduced himself as Mr. Gramm, a pediatrician, and the other women were just saying their names when music started playing from speakers on the stage.  
"Ladies and Gentlemen," said a polished female voice, "please take your seats. A presentation by our director will begin shortly." Cas took your hand as you walked over to the chairs, squeezing it slightly before you sat down.  
He leaned over to you, his mouth only an inch or two from your ear. "Notice anything?" he whispered in your ear. You shook your head, again having to force yourself to focus on the case, and not on the angel with the low voice and the very blue eyes.  
"Nothing," you said softly. "Just normal women at a spa retreat. A little boring, maybe, but normal."  
The lights dimmed and spotlight shone on a woman in a purple dress taking the stage. "Welcome, husbands and wives, to Tiber Springs." She had a shiny auburn bob, with the none-of-my-hairs-would-dare-be-out-of-place aura that you had never been able to pull over. "My name is Cynthia, and I am the founder and director of this haven for matrimonial rejeuvenation. We hope that your stay has been pleasant so far, and that you and your spouse are ready to begin an emotional and spiritual journey together. A journey," she continued, "that will bring you closer together as partners and as lovers."  
You shifted in your seat, acutely conscious of Castiel’s thigh next to yours.  
“Our methods,” said Cynthia, “include a mixture of meditation, couples therapy sessions, and the alignment of your personal energies. We intersperse these methods with traditional spa treatments, because we believe that a state of relaxation is the key to unlocking your perfect marriage.”  
Cynthia continued to talk about the various services the retreat offered, and you glanced around the audience. While a few of the more hippy-looking couples were engrossed in the speech, most of them seemed to be zoned out. You were pretty sure that the older couple in the back was about thirty seconds away from falling asleep right there. You still hadn’t noticed anything even remotely out of the ordinary, much less supernatural.  
Finally, the director’s speech seemed to be winding down. With a few more remarks about “optimal energy flow” and “aligning your personal goals,” she wished you all a good night and left the stage.  
You stood up and smoothed your skirt. “Well, that was the opposite of productive,” you muttered to Cas. “Unless you picked up on something.”  
“I have noticed a strange… energy,” said Cas as the two of you left the room. “But I cannot put a name to it. I’m not even sure where the source could be.”  
You sighed. “Well, maybe in the morning.” You unlocked the door to your suite and walked in. Castiel followed and closed the door behind you. As the lock clicked into place, you were suddenly incredibly aware that you were alone. In a couples’ suite. With Castiel.


End file.
